"But why, Pocahontas," asked another of her companions, "dost thou not
use more of these red beads? They are so like fire, like the blood of an
enemy; why dost thou refer the white?"

Pocahontas held her bone needle still for a moment and her face wore a
puzzled expression.

"I cannot answer thee exactly, Deer-Eye, since I do not know myself. I
love the white beads as I love best to wear a white robe myself, or a
white rabbit hood in winter. In the woods I always pick the white
flowers, and I love the white wild pigeon best of all the birds except
the white seagull. And the white soft clouds high in the heavens I love
better than the red and yellow ones when the sun goeth down to sleep in
the west. Yet I cannot say why it is so."

As noon approached the day grew hotter, and the fingers wearied of the
work. Down in the village the men had ceased their activities and lay
stretched out on the shady side of the lodges; only the squaws preparing
dinner were still busy.

"Let us go to the waterfall," cried Pocahontas, jumping up suddenly.
"Each of you go and beg some food from her mother and hurry back here. I
will put my work away and await ye here."

The maidens flew down the hill while Pocahontas and Cleopatra carried
the robe and the basket to their lodge. Then, a few minutes later, they
were rejoined by their companions and all started off laughing as they
ran through the woods.